Is it hopeless if the Willow pouts when in doubt?
Blushing firmament, broken turns again, sugar-scouts, losing focus, eternal inferno slowly… slowly, slowly, slowly, (comma, comma, coma… foam)… burning out.The FlAmEs ArE everlasting, a new hope was prejudiced. The blasphemies concur to the shoes of thieves persecuted for modern, media-portrayed, malicious deeds. The trees are diseased by the scandals who breathe for a creed, books and shambles. Memories are piled in acute queue collage.Cliff.
~That Dude Eddie~
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Love and Peace.